


Questionably Colored Frosting

by mercuryhatter



Series: wild for her drabbles [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, some side E/R if you squint a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I literally have no idea where this was going but people make out with frosting on their faces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Questionably Colored Frosting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [C-chan (1001orgamiboxes)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=C-chan+%281001orgamiboxes%29).



> This was inspired by C-chan's comment on Reasons Why: "There's also the idea of Joly trying to get his residency to let him be placed in the maternity ward for the... month or two around Musichetta's due date (and be freaking out about the possibilities of her delivering too premature or too late)." Obviously, this fic did not resolve the issue of how both of the boys will be able to be at the birth, but shh, that's just because I haven't quite figured it out yet. If you're confused on the exact point of this ficlet, well, don't worry, so am I. XD

“No, see, I really am very interested in maternity,” Joly said earnestly, although he had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t fooling his attending even a little. “And, you know, I felt I should diversify a little bit, and mom-and-baby seemed like a good way to do that, and I feel like I’d be good at it-- certainly better than I am in the emergency room, anyway--”

His attending now looked more amused than anything.

“And this has nothing at all to do with that girlfriend of yours, I’m to assume?”

“Wife,” Joly said quietly, patches of color rising in his cheeks. “She’s my wife.”

“Despite the fact that you also have a boyfriend...”

“Husband,” Joly squeaked, turning redder and looking down at his fidgeting hands.

“I’m not putting you on mom-and-baby in the middle of your ER rotation, and certainly not just so you can get around hospital rules. Don’t ask again.” He looked like he might say something else for a moment, then shook his head and walked away, leaving Joly scowling at the schedule on the wall. As soon as the attending was out of earshot, he muttered a curse and ducked into the bathroom to call Bossuet.

“No luck,” he said, his voice still tight with irritation. “I am going to be extremely glad when I am no longer working for this man.”

“Is he allowed to give you shit about us like he does?” Bossuet asked. This particular attending was the target of much verbal abuse when Joly was home, but all three of them had been getting progressively fed up with his bullshit.

“I guess the closest we could file it under would be sexual harassment, but there’s no specific protections for us, and-- it’s just not worth it, all right, I’ve only got three weeks more under this guy and then I switch again. I don’t want to deal with it right now.”

“All right,” Bossuet sighed reluctantly. “Do you mind if I at least talk to Courfeyrac about it, see if he knows anything we can do?” Courfeyrac was not quite finished with law school, but he was already becoming the unofficial legal contact for all of les Amis, from Bahorel’s disturbing-the-peace charges to Enjolras and Grantaire getting arrested at demonstrations (Enjolras had a tendency to mouth off to cops, and Grantaire tended to get protective). 

“That’s fine,” Joly conceded, waving one hand vaguely. “But I’m not doing anything until I’m on someone else’s service.”

Bossuet agreed and they exchanged goodbyes before Joly put his phone in his pocket and went back to work. 

At five, Bossuet picked him up as usual, although this time he had Musichetta in the car. She was lounging across the entire back seat, attempting to eat a cupcake without getting frosting all over her face and failing spectacularly. The frosting was an odd grey-purple color-- some of it was smudged under Bossuet’s lip as well-- and Joly regarded the matching cupcake presented to him with suspicion. 

“Jehan and Bossuet finally managed to make a batch without setting them on fire,” Musichetta reported from the back. “Don’t be scared of the frosting-- it’s a weird color because Jehan thought that blending food colorings worked like blending paints. Hilariously enough, he doesn’t know how to do either, but hey, they taste shockingly good for being vegan gluten-free organic whatever.”

“He calls this color ‘lavender poesy’ and insists that he did it on purpose,” Bossuet said with a grin. Joly leaned over to lick the frosting from his lip and put on a show of considering the taste. 

“He’s certainly had worse adventures in baking,” Joly said at last.

“Which brings us to our next point,” Musichetta piped up, rolling her eyes as Bossuet leaned over in the front seat to relieve Joly of the extra frosting on his face through another kiss. “We’ve been invited to an ‘oh god please take these baked goods off our hands they’re undergoing mitosis’ party by Combeferre. Which is how I was coerced into the car. There’s chocolate involved.”

“Is that the official party title?” Joly asked, grinning at her as Bossuet finally stopped kissing him and pulled the car away from the curb. 

“Facebook official,” Musichetta confirmed. “Complete with pictures of Jehan in the kitchen covered in cake batter. There’s sprinkles all over the counters and frosting on the ceiling. It’s bad.”

“Are you sure he didn’t do that on purpose?”

“Not at all. All I’m sure of is that Combeferre is staging an intervention. Although, I happen to know that Jehan’s learned to make rum cakes that he’s debuting tonight--”

“--and they are fantastic,” Bossuet finished. “I’m her inside contact. Not even Combeferre knows what’s happening in that kitchen.”

“It sounds like not even Jehan knows what’s happening in that kitchen,” Joly pointed out, and Musichetta grinned, sitting up slowly to drape herself over the side of Joly’s seat.

“I’m feeling neglected,” she said with a pout, frosting still all over her face. Joly laughed and licked her cheek like a child, she swatted his hair, and a tiny scuffle broke out between them that ended with Musichetta seizing his face in both hands and planting a massive sugary kiss on his lips.

“Could you two save it, please, for when I’m not trying to drive a car?” Bossuet complained. Musichetta sat back with a rather ominous “fine then, I will.” 

True to her word, when they did get to the party, she immediately dragged a yelping Joly into the back seat, and spent a good ten minutes kissing him before they even made it out of the car.


End file.
